


You’re Yellow, I’m Natural Blue

by DaisukiRose



Series: Twenty One Pilots Oneshots [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Chromesthesia, M/M, Schizotypal Personality Disorder, Synesthesia, Touring, Tyler has Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisukiRose/pseuds/DaisukiRose
Summary: Seeing a man multiple times in a city wouldn’t be that strange, but the thing was that Tyler wenteverywhere.He was on tour with his band almost constantly, sleeping in a dirty white van with Nick and Chris while they played all over Ohio, all over the East coast, and still, the yellow-voiced man would be there, lending a smile to a passing stranger or a flying bird, and once, he even lent a smile to Tyler. Tyler didn’t think he’d ever forget that moment. Chris and Nick were sure he’d never shut up about it.Based on Stay In Place (Sing a Chorus) ((AKA the Forest Fic)) by SoloChaos. Read it, if you haven't!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [stay in place (sing a chorus)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822504) by [SoloChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos). 



> TW for mental illness, overdose, unintended suicide. The overdose is pretty non-graphic, but stay safe, frens.
> 
> Thank you to SoloChaos for existing, like... Yeah lol. This fic originally started out not being based on the Forest fic at all, because I have synesthesia and was going to originally just write about that, but then it turned into this mess, so yeah... 
> 
> EDIT: Sorry for not tagging SoloChaos when it first was posted, my brother unchecked the box while I stepped away, but it's fixed now. Thanks, all!

Tyler saw him everywhere. Everywhere he went, Tyler saw hair the same colour as the cherry that had topped his sundae at lunch, 75% cacao chocolate eyes, and a mouth stretched in an A-major smile. The A-major maraschino cherry man had the most yellow voice, bright as the sun and as happy as a kid on Christmas, whether he happened to be ordering breakfast at the same place as Tyler or talking to the pigeons that he so often fed.

He envied the man, with his bright yellow voice and his easy smile, his maraschino hair a direct reflection of his personality. Tyler envied him, because Tyler was a dim blue. He was a blue you’d find on a walking trail, a bit of ripped, discarded fabric caught on a bush, stained and frayed. He was someone’s favorite pair of blue jeans after they’d been soiled past reconciliation and left out to burn, a Stellar Jay’s feather that had been stepped on by an errant child, or maybe a business executive on his way to a meeting far more important than just Tyler. Tyler wanted to be yellow, he hated his blue voice and hated that there were so many people out there that had the orange-green-blue name of Tyler Joseph. He hated that he had no originality, whereas A-major smiles and cacao eyes were extraordinary. 

Seeing a man multiple times in a city wouldn’t be that strange, but the thing was that Tyler went _everywhere._ He was on tour with his band almost constantly, sleeping in a dirty white van with Nick and Chris while they played all over Ohio, all over the East coast, and still, the yellow-voiced man would be there, lending a smile to a passing stranger or a flying bird, and once, he even lent a smile to Tyler. Tyler didn’t think he’d ever forget that moment. Chris and Nick were sure he’d never shut up about it.

He’d been sent out for coffee when he ran into the man again. He heard him first, heard the smiles and saw the yellowness of it leaking out from around the corner, flowing in tendrils like cigarette smoke caught in a sunbeam as the man sung, or hummed under his voice. He’d stopped, halfway to the counter, an order for two things he’d never heard of and a dark chocolate mocha flitting out of his mind as it was filled with colour, as his face filled with a smile. He rounded the corner, unsure of whether he wanted to talk to the man or just see his smile, unsure of why he was even bothering with this perfect stranger instead of his own coffee. “I keep seeing you.” Tyler said, before he even knew what he was saying. Warm, dark eyes turned up to him questioningly, maraschino hair falling into his face. “I saw you in Columbus, I saw you in Dayton, in Zanesville… I saw you in New York, too.” Tyler mentally willed himself to shut up, but he wasn’t complying with his own will. “Are you, like, following my band, or is this like…?”

“A coincidence?” The bright sunbeam voice asked as the man reached up and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m Josh.”

Josh. A bright, green-yellow name, fitting for the yellow-voiced A-major man. It clicked, it fit together, and things that fit made Tyler immensely happy. “Tyler.” Tyler said simply. “Are you following me, then?”

“I don’t think so.” Josh’s lips quirked into an easy smile. “I could be. I wasn’t, but I might now that you mention it.”

Tyler laughed. “I still think you’ve got to be magic or something. Every city, every town for the last three weeks. I’ve counted, fifteen towns and you’ve been in all of them. How did you do that?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Josh repeated, sipping on what appeared to be tea. “I don’t believe in coincidences, but if I did, I’d say it was one.”

“Me too.” Tyler’s hands fidgeted with the edge of his blue jacket, the blue jacket for the blue boy. 

Josh glanced down at his hands, bringing Tyler’s gaze to drummer’s hands and a tree tattoo that wound up his forearm, up his bicep, and disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt. “I do believe in fate, though.” The yellow voice drifted to Tyler’s brain, drawing him away from the tattoo and back to the man it belonged to.

“Fate?” Tyler asked, identical half-smiles quirking the corners of their mouths. “I’d believe in fate before coincidences.”

Josh’s smile bloomed full-force, his cheeks tinting the colour of his hair as he glanced at the fragile teacup before him. “I have to go.” Josh said carefully, looking back up.

“What?” Tyler’s eyes opened wide, shock on his face.

“How am I supposed to already be where you will be if I don’t get a move on?” He joked, winking, and draining the rest of his tea as Tyler blushed. “You’ll be seeing me again, I presume?”

“Sixteenth city is Richmond.” Tyler said as Josh stood.

“Richmond.” Josh repeated, smoothing hands over a black T-shirt. “Maybe you’ll see me there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler saw him in Richmond, through the window of a florist’s that they drove past on their way to the venue. Tyler saw him in Philadelphia, in Hershey, in Scranton. The 20th stop on their tour was a bar in Cleveland, back in Ohio, almost home. Tyler saw him in the crowd at their show, easy grin and maraschino hair, and Tyler almost forgot to sing. His breath stuck in his throat. He didn’t know why seeing him there surprised him so much more than seeing him in passing, but it seemed so much more personal, much more intimate. Josh was there, watching him perform, Josh knew about Twenty One Pilots, and by the smile on his face, he liked their sound. During a break in between songs, Tyler pointed him out to Chris and Nick. “Look!” He’d said. “The dude with the red hair, over by the wall. You see him? That’s Josh! That’s the guy I keep running into!”

“Where?” Chris had squinted, following the direction of Tyler’s finger, sharing straight at Josh and seemingly not seeing him. 

“There, you’re looking like right at him.” Tyler said, exasperated.

“I don’t see him, dude,” Nick shrugged, Chris nodding along.

“Yeah, sorry.” Chris chimed in. “Find him after the show and introduce him to us, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tyler said as Chris walked up to the mic and announced that their next song would be Isle of Flightless Birds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler looked for Josh after the show, but couldn’t find him. For all intents and purposes, the man with the tree tattoo and the easy smile was nowhere to be seen, completely gone somewhere between their fourth and fifth songs. Tyler had explained to his band that Josh had disappeared into thin air and they nodded, sharing a look that Tyler didn’t quite catch. “We believe you.” Nick said, and Tyler had the idea that that was a weird thing to say to a friend whose mystery man had vanished into the crowd. 

“Tyler,” Chris had asked slowly the next day, green voice invading Tyler’s songwriting process. “Tyler, are you feeling okay?”

“Of course.” Tyler looked at him funny, head cocked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” Chris said quickly, too quickly. “You’ve been sleeping okay?”

“Fine.” Tyler stared at him, brow furrowed. “Normal amounts for tour, nothing crazy. Why?”

Chris shrugged noncommittally, turning to talk to Nick, who was driving them their first leg on the road home. Tyler looked at his notebook, then at his friends, and back to his notebook in confusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler had seen Josh out the window of the van while he’d been writing. His head had snapped up, pointing, yelling to his bandmates. “Look!” He said excitedly, pointing out the window at the red-haired man ahead. “That’s him, that’s Josh, he’s right ahead of us!”

“I don’t see him.” Nick said, scanning the road in front of them as he continued driving.

“He’s right there, are you blind?” Tyler joked, a laugh bubbling out of his throat. “He’s in front of us a ways, red hair, black shirt, blue jeans. He’s got a backpack on, see? He’s hitchhiking, I think.”

“There’s nobody out there, Tyler.” Chris said gently as they passed the spot where Josh was walking, thumb out, faint A-major smile on his lips as he sang to himself, lips moving, but Tyler hadn’t a chance to catch what he might have been saying as they drove past him.

“Yes there is, he’s…” Tyler trailed off, looking at the two of them in confusion. “This is some sort of sick joke, right? He’s literally right there, we passed him already.” Tyler’s voice started to shake as he forced a laugh. “This isn’t funny, guys.”

Chris sighed as he rubbed at his temples. “There’s really nobody there, Tyler.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s real!” Tyler insisted, eyes wide, hands opening and closing as he gripped at nothing. He squeezed his hands together a few times before he started awkwardly playing with the rubber band adorning his arm, snapping it back against the soft skin of his wrist. “He’s there, I saw him, you can’t tell me that he’s not…”

“I can’t see him.” Chris said, eyes sad, B-flat frown on his lips as he looked at his friend. “Tyler, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Look, we’re almost home, why don’t you drink some water and take a nap, we’ll wake you up in Columbus, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler said faintly, taking the water he was handed and dutifully swallowing a few mouthfuls before laying across the backseat, a pile of their merch T-shirts as a pillow. “Okay.”

Tyler didn’t sleep. He closed his eyes and thought, confusion and sadness and yellow voices and 75% cacao eyes drifting through his head as he listened to Chris and Nick’s hushed conversation in the front seat. “I’m worried about Tyler, man,” Chris said after a few minutes, crawling into the front seat beside Nick. “He hasn’t been doing too well.”

“I know.” Nick said solemnly, eyes on the road, voice a deep indigo. “We’re almost back to Columbus, though, and when we get there, he can get help, or… or whatever it is that he needs.”

“Maybe he just needs more sleep.” Chris sounded hopeful, a light green tinged with swirling dark colours of doubt. 

Tyler could almost hear Nick shake his head. He heard the gentle jingle of his necklace as his head moved, could almost hear his frown, an E-flat, or if it was extreme enough, he might frown an E-sharp. Tyler hated E-sharp frowns. “I don’t think so,” He said carefully, lowly. “He’s been sleeping, you know that. It’s not like any of us are sleep deprived.” That was true, Tyler had been sleeping on tour. He’d finally grown accustomed to the van’s rocking while he slept enough to fall comfortably into 8 hour cycles. “What was it that Tyler’s mom said he had?”

It always came back to that. Tyler fought not to open his eyes, fought not to tell them that this was not his illness, that he was not his illness, fought to pretend to be asleep. “Schizo-something.” Chris mused. “Not schizophrenia. Schizotypal personality disorder? I think?”

“Sounds about right. Do you think it could be that?”

“That’s only supposed to be a one-time episode thing, I thought.” Chris said. “Should I call his mom?”

“No, we’ll be back in Columbus in an hour and a half.” Nick decided. “We’ll tell her when we get there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler saw Josh by the side of the road, when Nick had stopped the van on the side of the road and informed everyone that this was an official bathroom break, the fact that there wasn’t an official bathroom be damned. Tyler saw Josh, sitting on his pack, sandwich in hand, eating it slowly as he watched the birds. Tyler had gotten out of the van, was leaning against it, debating whether to go talk to him or not when the red-haired boy looked up, A-major smile on his face when he saw Tyler. “Did you see that?” He asked, excited. “The bird that just dived for that bug? That was sick!”

“So sick.” Tyler parroted, smiling. “I thought we already passed you.” 

“You did.” Josh confirmed.

“So how are you here?”

“You got passed by a truck awhile ago, the truck had picked me up.” He threw the crusts of his sandwich out for the birds. “He dropped me off right here and I decided to go on a picnic.”

Tyler nodded. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke up. “The rest of my band can’t see you.”

“Chris and Nick?” Josh asked, face scrunching up. “They couldn’t see an elephant if it was sitting on their lap. You know I’m real. You do, don’t you?”

“I… I think so.” Tyler said carefully.

“That’s all that matters, is what you think.” Josh told him, turning his eyes from the birds, letting them rest on Tyler’s face. “If you know, what’s it matter what they know?”

“They’re my friends,” Tyler said unsurely. “They wouldn’t lie to me… Would they?”

“I don’t know them, you do.” Josh said, running a hand through his hair. “You have to decide.”

“I don’t know!” Tyler’s voice was rising. “I don’t know what to think!”

“Tyler?” Nick was standing behind him, scared look on his face. “Tyler, what’s up, man?”

“It’s Josh, see?” Tyler gestured at the man next to him, at the empty space next to him, and sighed in frustration. “He’s just saying the exact same thing I am, but like, as a question, and it’s driving me crazy!”

“Tyler, I…”

“I know you can’t see him, Nicholas!” Tyler snapped, standing up, head in his hands. “I know, but I can, and I can’t take it!” He turned back to Josh. “I need proof! I need proof you’re real! How do I know? Everyone already thinks I’m crazy, maybe I am!”

“I’m real, Tyler.” Josh whispered, hurt in his eyes.

“There’s nobody there.” Nick said from behind Tyler. “Tyler, it’s just a rock, there’s not a person on it or anything. There’s nobody-”

“There is!” Tyler screamed. “There is, and I know it, but you can’t see him! His name is Josh, and he’s right there and his hair is red and he sounds like summer and you don’t know any of that because you think he’s not real!”

“What’s going on?” Chris came around the other side of the van, looking at the two of them confusedly. 

“Josh.” Nick said simply, and Chris nodded knowingly.

“Come on, Tyler,” Chris said slowly. “There’s a half-hour to Columbus, let’s just go home, okay?”

“He’s real.” Tyler insisted as Nick grabbed his arm and steered him in the direction of the van. Tyler’s eyes stayed on Josh, stayed on red hair and a slight frown, stayed on 75% cacao eyes steadfastly. “He’s real.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler was sick. They’d gotten back to Columbus, Tyler had grabbed his ukulele and his duffel bag, and Nick had carried his keyboard, and after all of that had been deposited in his room, he crawled into bed fully-clothed and slept. He’d woken up the next day with a pounding headache and a 103-degree fever, and been declared too sick to get up by his mom, who came to his little apartment to take care of him. “Oh, baby,” She whispered, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “What happened?”

Tyler told her. Tyler told her about Josh, about Columbus and the other fifteen cities, and the side of the road, and the coffee shop, and how Chris and Nick either couldn’t see Josh or were playing some sort of sick joke. Tyler told her about his insecurities and doubts, about how Chris had tossed around his mental disorder like it was some sort of excuse, even though it wasn’t, even though it didn’t do that. Tyler didn’t have schizophrenia. Tyler wasn’t crazy. He knew he wasn’t, he _knew._

Tyler’s mom took it well, all in all. “Oh.” She had said, shifting on the bed to where she was cradling his head like he was a small child. “I’m sorry, Tyler. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully, eyes closed.

“Have you been taking your meds?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t, he’d forgot over tour but had started again in Scranton, after Chris had said something in passing. 

She sighed, leaning back against Tyler’s headboard. “Try to ignore Josh if you see him again, okay, honey?” Her silvery-pink voice was soft, light, soothing. “Ignore him until you can talk to Dr. Martin.”

Tyler sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay.” He said quietly. “I can do that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tyler!” Josh was sitting on Tyler’s window ledge, legs on the outside. “Tyler, hey, it’s me! I found a dude who told me where you’re living, how are you?”

Tyler was quiet, focused on his journal, eyes steadfastly ignoring the yellow sunlight-cigarette smoke tendrils creeping over the pages as Josh spoke. “Tyler?” Still, Tyler didn’t reply, grinding his teeth to stay silent. “Ty, dude, you’re right there, I know you can hear me.”

“I can’t talk to you.” Tyler whispered. “You’re not real.”

“What?” Tyler snuck a glance over the top of his notebook to see the hurt face of Josh, brows furrowed in confusion. “Of course I am, I’m right here.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m real, you’re real…”

“You’re not real!” Tyler screamed, dropping his notebook. “Nick and Chris can’t see you, my mom probably can’t see you, you’re not real!”

“Tyler, I-“ Josh’s voice broke as Tyler cut him off.

“Get out of my head!” He yelled, head in his hands. “Out, out, out!”

“I’m real, Tyler!” Josh yelled over him, crossing the room, hands on Tyler’s shoulders, eyes full of concern. “You feel that? You feel my hands? I’m real!”

“You’re not.” Tyler whimpered, eyes wide as he looked at where Tyler’s hands were around his arms. “You can’t be, you’re not… Nick said…”

“I’m real, okay?” Josh whispered, sitting next to Tyler. “I’m real.”

Tyler was quiet, complacent for a moment, but then he shot up, shaking Josh’s hands. “No!” He yelled. “Dr. Martin said this might happen, you’re playing tricks on me! You’re not real, I made you up!”

“You didn’t, Tyler, I…” Josh sighed, watching as Tyler paced the room. “I’m sorry. You want me to go?”

“Get out,” Tyler said softly, arms around himself as he stopped and stared at Josh. “Please. Just go.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler couldn’t get visions of Josh out of his head. Red hair and yellow voices and A-major smiles flashed into his mind rapid-fire as he lay in his bed, and he just wanted it to stop. “Get out of my head.” Tyler whispered. “I just want you gone.”

_**You know what to do.**_ A voice in his head said. _**You know how to get him to leave us alone.**_

“B… Blurry?” Tyler whispered, fear written over his face. “No. I… I won’t listen.”

_**Nobody would miss you.**_ Blurryface insisted, the black-red-indigo voice pattern making Tyler shiver as he squeezed his eyes shut. _**We’ve discussed it before, you know what to do.**_

“I won’t.” Tyler squeaked, voice weak.

_**You will.**_ Blurry insisted. _**You will, and you will soon. Maybe tonight. You’re crazy, Tyler. Nobody likes you. You like a boy, but he’s not even real. You made him up so you’ll feel less pathetic!**_

“No.” Tyler whispered, his voice losing conviction. He fumbled to the dresser and shook two pills into his hands, antipsychotics, the pills that kept Blurry at bay. “I won’t, I’ll make you go away. I don’t wanna fall away.”

_**You do.**_ Blurry insisted. _**And you will, just watch.**_

Tyler’s hands were shaking, black-red-indigo surrounding him, making him on edge, almost hysterical. “You can’t make me, you’re not real.”

_**I’m real.**_ Blurry taunted. _**Josh isn’t real. Hell, maybe you’re not real. Didn’t think about that, did you?**_

“No.” Tyler swallowed a few more pills, willing Blurryface to go away, willing Josh to come back. “I want Josh, I want Josh.” He chanted. Had he taken his pills? He didn’t remember, so he swallowed a few more.

_**You do.**_ Blurry confirmed. _**You want your fake, made-up friend who would definitely be a stalker if he was real. You want a fake boy with fake tattoos and a fake smile.**_

“He’s real!” Tyler yelled, getting dizzy and falling onto his bed. “He’s real, you’re not real. Josh is real, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

_**Sorry for what?**_ Blurryface prompted.

“Tell my dad I’m sorry.” Tyler whimpered, popping another handful of pills, unable to remember if he’d taken them before. He thought he had, but he wanted to be safe. Josh was safety. Tyler needed safety. “Josh is real. Tell my dad I’m… Sorry… I…”

_**That’s right.**_ Blurry was unbelievably close, grinning down at Tyler. _**Sleep, boy. Josh is real after you sleep.**_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler’s funeral was on January 16. It was a small, open-air thing, held in the cold, drafty Catholic church that Tyler had always talked about the stained glass art of, smiled at the sculptures of angels and saints even though he wasn’t Catholic. They did a slideshow of his short life, pictures from his twenty-something years, and his eulogy was delivered by Chris and Nick. When either of them were unable to continue reading, the other took over, and between the two of them, they managed to read the whole thing in some semblance of neatness. “Does anyone have any final words?” The man officiating the affair asked, fidgeting with the edge of his tie.

“I do.” A boy with maraschino hair and 75% cacao eyes stood out of the crowd, B-major smile replaced with a C-flat expression, something halfway between crying and remaining stolid. Yellow voice washed over Chris and Nick and Tyler’s mom and all the other people in attendance, turning heads and raising three distinct gasps. “Let me introduce myself first, I’m Josh.”


End file.
